


Hold It Now, Hit It

by gloss



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Extra Treat, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming So Much Rimming Eat That Ass UP, Shotgunning, banter as foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29101410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: "I know you," Finn says, "and I know when you're up to something."He's missed this, much more than he let himself admit while they were still apart. He missedPoe, in all his rumpled handsomeness and absurdly argumentative glory.Poe likes to think he can still surprise Finn.redated for author reveals
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25
Collections: Beastie Title Challenge, Bulletproof 20/21





	Hold It Now, Hit It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neurotoxia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neurotoxia/gifts).



> Neurotoxia, you requested three of my most beloved tags! How could I not try to make you something?
> 
> Title from Beastie Boys.

They have a couple apartments like this across the galaxy, small, barely furnished rooms where they can catch up on sleep, meet up, or just sit down, however briefly, to let the hyperspace-shivers ease. Leia would have called this place a pied-à-terre; they're pretty sure that's what Chewie says, but it's unrecognizable when translated into Shyriiwook. Poe calls it a _crash pad_ , occasionally a _bolthole_. Finn corrects him each time. It's crappy and small, but it's _home_ , wherever they are, whichever place they've found.

This one is nestled on the outskirts of a residential exurb, a ferry ride from the nearest spaceport. Finn is arriving from the Rim, while Poe has been hopping around Core moons, talking up new settlement and education opportunities.

"You're late," Finn says as the security door rattles open for him. He steps inside, relief washing over him as he leaves his boots at the entrance and drops his satchel. 

Startled, Poe looks up at the same time he curls his arm around the platter before him on the counter. "You're early!"

It's backwards, but Finn expected that Poe would be here a good cycle and a half before the security system reported his presence. Finn squeezes Poe's shoulder as he passes into the main room. "Surprise."

"And I'm not late," Poe adds, pushing away the small platter and coming around the counter. "I finished right on time but then Connix had something and my dad comm'd --"

Sunk into the wide couch that runs the length of the room, Finn laces his fingers together behind his neck and flaps his arms slowly. "What are you up to?"

"What? Nothing." Poe glances over at the platter before sliding in front of it on the counter and crossing his arms casually. "Nothing."

"What do you think you're doing?" Finn asks. "If you're trying to hide that, it's not working."

Poe looks up from the holo on his wrist. "What's that? Sorry, I was absorbed in --"

"You were not." 

Poe's expression goes mulish and his shoulders hunch a little. "You don't know."

"I know you," Finn says, "and I know when you're up to something."

He's missed this, much more than he let himself admit while they were still apart. He missed _Poe_ , in all his rumpled handsomeness and absurdly argumentative glory.

"I've run several successful, highly risky covert missions," Poe says archly, "involving espionage, deceit, and breathtaking amounts of intrigue. Need-to-know missions where only Leia needed to know." He pauses to let that sink in, then nods, satisfied. "That's right. _Leia Organa_."

Finn snorts. They're both drawing this out now, teasing each other, getting the other guy a little more worked up with each remark. "I know who Leia is, man."

"Point being," Poe resumes, a little more loudly, "that I'm _pretty_ sure that if I wanted to, I could get away with something without you ever noticing. Ever even _suspecting_."

Finn nods a few times, slowly. "So you want me to notice."

"What? No, that's --. What?"

"Since you're being really obvious."

Poe's mouth works silently. He shakes his head, then scrubs his hair back with one hand. "I --"

"C'mere," Finn says and opens his arms. "Why are you all the way over there?"

"I don't know," Poe says like he's confessing a very shameful secret. He tries to straddle one of Finn's thighs, but misjudges the angle and stumbles. His nose wrinkles. "Why do you smell like you've been swimming in decontamination fluid?"

"Because I got a whole decon bath." Finn grabs Poe's hips and holds him there, tipping his head back to meet Poe's eyes. "Possible plague on S'rul-2."

"Fuck."

"Three decontamination dunks, I feel like a shrivelled Jakku corpse, and probably look about as good." Poe shakes his head at the suggestion and Finn squeezes his hands gratefully. "But the important thing is they contained the plague, it's all clear."

"Okay, but --" Poe flops down beside him. He kisses Finn, long and lingering, hand coming up to hold Finn's face, then sighs when the contact breaks. 

"But what?" Finn asks gently.

Poe wriggles to get his legs draped across Finn's lap as he reclines down the couch, arm over his eyes. "What?"

Finn shakes one of Poe's feet. "Man, what is going on with you?"

"Nothing," Poe says. He sounds sleepy and distantly amused, but then sits up suddenly, as if stung or afire, and jumps to his feet, all but leaping over to the counter, then back. "I've got the best surprise for you!" Beaming, he holds out the platter. "Look what Connix helped me with!"

A jumble of tubing, transparent canisters, and cartidges rattles across the surface as Poe hands Finn the platter.

"This is, what, exactly?" Finn asks.

Poe looks over one shoulder, then the next, as if they might be being surveilled. They better not be, not with all the security measures in place.

"A bubbling smoker," Poe whispers. "For _this_." He shows Finn a small brick, maybe the width and length of two fingers. "Picked in its prime, not for export, dried over slow fires, Yavin's finest."

"Herb," Finn says, reaching for the brick, only for Poe to sweep it away. It all makes sense now -- Poe's lassitude and sleepy smile, his even more erratic-than-usual attention span and energy levels, all of it. "Your dad?"

"Thanks, Pop!" Poe kisses the brick then takes the platter back from Finn. "Just let me finish assembling this and you can have some."

"You just smoked it plain, though," Finn points out. He doesn't want to wait, frankly. His trip was long and depressing -- as well as occasionally terrifying -- and now that he's here, with Poe within reach, he wants to turn off his brain, make out with his partner, and maybe even fuck around, but definitely sleep.

"Yeah, but the smoker," Poe says, as if that settles it. "We'll break it in together."

Even stoned, Poe is excellent with machines. He gets the small apparatus put together in about five minutes, leaving only the tubing and cartridge to do. Then he spends another long interval looking at the tube in his palms.

"Hey," Finn says, and has to repeat himself a few times before Poe tunes in and smiles at him.

"Hey."

"How stoned _are_ you?" Finn asks. "Maybe I should just catch up on my own."

Poe shakes his head violently, then coughs when he swallows wrong. "I got it!"

Finn rubs his back as Poe bends over the platter again. The hollow of his back, just over his ass, is exposed when the already too-short jersey he's wearing rides up. Poe stops for a moment, looks over his shoulder, smiles lazily at Finn.

"Hey," Finn says and presses his palm against the warmth of Poe's skin.

"Hi, there." Poe sounds almost shy. He blinks slowly and his smile deepens. "Handsome."

Laughing a little, Finn slaps him lightly. "You planning on sharing at some point or just sweet-talking me, hoping I forget?"

"I'm sharing!" Poe returns to work, lacing the tube in the pattern he prefers, tapping out the tiny fire-pore, then packing the cartridge with the herb. He wiggles around to sit perpendicular to Finn, the smoker between them, and lifts the mouthpiece to his lips. The fire-pore sparks, the cartridge starts to spin, and the juice in the tank glows. He inhales once, then again, his shoulders lifting, and beckons Finn over.

Finn holds the smoker out of the way and kisses Poe, breathing in, drinking both Poe and the steam down. They're both sweet and heavy, exciting even as they're comforting and calming: he sees himself think that and marvels that he's getting stoned already.

Chuckling, Finn breaks for breath. "That is powerful stuff."

"Isn't it? My dad's the best." Poe hums happily as he fits his mouth around the mouthpiece again and takes another impossibly-long drag. Finn leans in early, nuzzles the side of Poe's neck, nips down on his earlobe, feels him giggle and splutter. Poe turns and kisses him hard, pushing him into the back of the couch and _driving_ into the kiss, filling Finn's lungs with steam, then with his own breath. Finn's arms come up around his shoulders.

The kiss is long, lingering in small flicks of the tongue and deep sighs that pass from one mouth to the other, then back again. Tingles descend in a warm syrup down Finn's legs, his spine, the center of his dick. 

"Like that?" Poe asks, breaking the kiss to press his forehead into the curve of Finn's neck and shoulder.

"Exactly like that, yeah," Finn replies. The evening light stretches across the room, breaking up when it hits the far wall, falling in lozenge-shaped spangles down the glass tiles. The light beats slightly out of time with Finn's own pulse.

He wiggles his fingers, asking the Force to nudge the smoker over. Surprisingly, it works, and Finn sucks down one last hit, mint-sharp and -sweet, before pinching Poe's chin and pulling him in. He blows a little too hard, or Poe misjudges the seal of their lips, and they end up kissing through the sweet cloud. It disperses, but the kiss persists, the pleasure spreading throughout Finn in slow, steady throbs. He digs his fingers into the tangle of Poe's hair and holds on, wondering if they're floating, thanks to the Force, or if it just feels that way, thanks to the herb. He doesn't, he realizes a while later, particularly care.

"Fuck, man," Poe mutters at some point, pulling away to try to untangle himself from his twisted-up jersey. "Missed you."

Finn swallows against an unexpected rush of sorrow and works his knee between Poe's so they're even closer. "Yeah," he manages, through a bite to the side of Poe's arm, then his chin, then, finally, his mouth. "Too long."

"Way too long," Poe says. He's pawing a little at Finn, urging him to get his trousers off, but acting unwilling to break contact. "Come _on_ \--"

"What do you want?" Breaking free, Finn gets his trousers open, shimmied a little ways down his thighs, when Poe tackles him. It's a lucky hit, shoulder driving into Finn's chest. 

Whooping, Poe pulls himself up to straddle Finn's ass.

"That's great," Finn says, laughing into the upholstery. "But what do you _want?_ "

"Got it already!" Poe braces one hand on Finn's shoulder blade and uses the other to tug, fairly ineffectually, at Finn's trousers. "Your ass is _mine_."

"Established _that_ a while ago, I thought --" Poe's weight and movement are grinding Finn's erection against the couch, and the glancing touches to his inner thighs and ass are just making him harder and more impatient. He takes a breath and floats several centimeters upwards, just enough to get his pants and underwear down, then off.

"Damn," Poe breathes. He sounds reverent, awed, and that's great, that's really flattering, but Finn has other priorities just now. As they land again, he lifts and dips his body in a long rippling motion, reminding Poe about his ass -- it's _right_ there. Snickering, Poe slips down between Finn's legs, pushing one up to bend at the knee. "I got it, man. Sorry for _admiring the view_."

His hands lift Finn's ass cheeks and ease them apart.

Finn grunts and pushes back into Poe's hands. "Admire all you want, just get --"

Poe spreads him wider and kisses the top of his crack. He murmurs something about decon-taste, but Finn isn't listening all that carefully. He's riding the slick press of Poe's mouth, the rapid tendrils of pleasure shooting outward and lighting him up. He gets his bent knee under him and rocks back, even as Poe's fingers dig into the meat of his buttocks and open him up further. Poe licks a long, wet kiss down Finn's crack, pausing to suckle at the sensitive edges, then skips his hole entirely to mouth awkwardly up to the back of Finn's balls. The sensation builds and _deepens_ , jerks Finn back and up, then down and forward.

Poe sucks his way back to Finn's hole; he presses closer and tips his head simultaneously, sucking Finn open, working the tip of his tongue slowly and unrelentingly against the frilled skin. He soaks Finn, his spit sliding down the inside of Finn's thighs; his wet chin sticks to the back of Finn's sac whenever Finn heaves backward. 

Finn's cock slips and skitters between the couch and his stomach. His skin is too tight, too hot, and he's sure he must be glowing, lit up at Poe's mouth, brightening more when Poe's tongue gets inside and sucks at the rim, starts to twist and corkscrew so Finn's hips circle and grind, trying to keep up, trying to stay with the blazing, speeding pleasure.

He gulps several times and tries to go still, tries to open himself up to Poe's kiss and float on that. But Poe's kiss is filthy-wet and heavy, his tongue fucking and flicking, impossible to resist. Finn seizes up, hears his grunt sound more like a yowl, as his ass lifts, his hips drop, and his cock starts to spurt.

Poe keeps sucking him inside-out through the orgasm, his tongue working deep, his spit going cold and slightly tacky. Sensation smolders in irregular shapes all over Finn, then catches again, glows and tightens, until his balls ache and his dick stings.

He pulls away, maybe a few centimeters, and lowers himself, catching his breath. He can hear Poe behind him, also breathless, but humming, maybe chuckling as well. 

"And _that_ , my friend, is --" Poe says hoarsely, then pauses. It sounds like he's standing up; after his weight disappears, there's another pause, then the sound of gargling and spitting from the fresher. Finally, Poe returns, sitting down so he can rest a hand on the back of Finn's neck. 

Finn twists and cranes, but fails to find Poe's eyes. Poe does, however, pass him a soft sani-serviette. Finn thinks about cleaning himself up, but he's so heavy now, so _weary_ and spent and dopey, that instead he rolls onto his side and lets Poe do it.

"What?" Finn asks when Poe's done. "You were saying something."

"Was I?" Poe slumps so he's nearly horizontal, arm across Finn's chest, Finn's head against his ribs. "Don't remember."

"Okay." It's night now, dark in here, and Finn smells like himself again. He noses at Poe's arm and adds, "Welcome home."

"Home," Poe announces to the dark, then stops to laugh at his own unsaid joke. "It's where the ass is."

"Truer words," Finn murmurs and tries one more time to crane upward. He succeeds, finally, and kisses Poe shallowly, softly. Their mouths rest together, tongues fluttering, lungs breathing, as the moment extends and grows.


End file.
